


show me devotion / and take me all the way

by unnohrian (cuddlebros)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chubby Reader, F/F, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlebros/pseuds/unnohrian
Summary: You head out to a club with some friends to try and finally let go of your crush on a girl you hadn't seen since you were teenagers. But Camilla isn't just anyone--she has her eye on you, and she's not ready to give you up.





	show me devotion / and take me all the way

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is referred to as a woman with a vagina in this fic, and chubby, though that doesn't really factor in super heavily.
> 
> Also the title is absolutely from Carly Rae Jepsen's 'Cut To The Feeling'.

 

 

##  _Nohrian Princess Seen Out With Girl Friends--Where IS Her Man?_

 

##  _Socialite Camilla Remaining Unmarried? Who WILL Be The Lucky Man!?_

> _  
> _  
> 

“Is there really nothing better to report? Is this really what counts for news right now?” you ask the empty room, rolling your eyes as you scroll past the headline. There have to be more interesting things going on in the world than one person's lack of a love-life, but you wouldn’t know it from the way the tabloids wrote.

The worst thing about these headlines at this point was that they gave you _hope_. As long as she was single, you figure, you might still have a chance with your childhood friend. It was a baseless hope; the two of you hadn’t spoken for years, not since her sister had returned and the family had stepped up their royal duties. Still, the romantic notion of being swept off your feet by her one of these days, like a knight in shining armour, keeps you searching her name every week.

Sighing, you shut your laptop down and start to get ready for the day. It’s weird to see her from such a distance after being so intrinsically woven in each others lives—but time happens, and things change. For now, your life centred around keeping your job, your social life, and your health in balance.

Your social life was what you were looking after tonight—a night of pretty lowkey clubbing with a few close friends, a well deserved break after a long, tiring week. Soon, they’d be coming over, and your apartment would be full of music, laughing, drinks and the fun of getting ready—and you’d get your head away from Camilla.

* * *

Even after spending a couple of hours getting dressed up, your confidence isn’t on top form. Your friends look gorgeous as always, and you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb in the group of stunning individuals. Spending some time in the fray, dancing and trying not to be stuck in your head helped, but eventually you push your way back to the bar and try to order a drink.

When the bartender fails to notice you for the third time, you’re close to giving up, but a hand on your back keeps you in place. You turn to face the person, expecting one of your friends, but instead come face to face with one of the most stunning women you’d ever seen. She’s looking at you with a mischievous smile that makes her eyes light up, and she has one hand up to signal the bartender.

When he makes it over, she orders a couple of vodka shots, then asks what the “beautiful lady here” would like.

Flustered, you just about manage to stutter out the name of some cocktail you’d heard of while trying not to explode at the touch of the blonde beauty. In the meagre light of the club, it’s hard to see much of her, but from her proximity you can make out her smooth, light brown skin and pale pink lips, and gods— _she’s speaking to you_.

“So, what’s a cutie like you doing all alone at the bar? You waitin’ on someone?”

“Oh—no, I’m just here with some friends. Needed some fresh air, y’know?”

She nods, and smoothly moves the hand on your back to your shoulder. “Name’s Flavia, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Uh, [Y/N].”

“Cute name for a cute girl,” she winks, and _holy hell, is she flirting with you_?

Thankfully, you’re spared from having to respond by the arrival of your drinks, which Flavia swiftly pounds and you, slightly more sensibly, sip.

“You like dancing, [Y/N]?”

There is no way this toned, muscled goddess of a woman is trying to get you on the dancefloor, but she is. Insecurity battles with admiration for this stranger, and somehow it leads to you, on the dancefloor, pressed almost as close to Flavia as possible with your drink high above your head. She’s smiling, and singing along, and it’s enough to put a smile on your face and give your confidence an incredible boost.

When a slightly slower song starts, she wraps her arms around you, snaking them down towards your backside with a sultry smile. Your drink is almost done by now, so you forget it on some edge of the club and wrap your own arms around her neck—loving the feel of her wandering hands and hot breath on your neck.

“Can’t believe the gods gave me you tonight,” she mutters in your ear, and it’s so intimate you feel yourself heat from your toes to the tips of your ears, red running through your skin and desire thrumming with it. “You wanna head back to mine, babe? We could have a real good night… _and morning_ …”

Before you can stumble through a response, a different set of long, strong, soft arms wrap around you from behind, prising you apart from Flavia. You’re taken aback, especially when you turn around and spot _Camilla_ of all people behind you, purple hair glowing under the pulsing club lights, scowling territorially towards Flavia. She gives no quarter, keeping her hands on your soft, squishy sides even as Camilla tries to yank you away.

“Excuse me, but may I steal your companion for a while?” she asks, voice silky sweet even with how loud it has to be to rise above the thumping backing track. But you knew her when she was younger, know that that saccharine tone hides a poison tip on the top of her tongue—and you aren’t sure why she’s so protective over you, having not even set eyes on you in over 7 years.

“Well, I’m not excited to let ‘er go, but if she doesn’t mind—” she pulls a marker out of the dip between her breasts and writes her number on your arm, before pulling away with a wink and disappearing back into the throng. Camilla immediately pulls you by the hand towards the empty, quieter hallway. The loss of the bass in your chest is like the dip after an adrenaline high, and you come to the sudden realisation that you have no idea what her intentions are with you.

“Who was that,” she asks through grit teeth, pushing you up against a wall. You aren’t sure what to say, which only riles her further, causing her to cage you in further and further. “Who. Was. That.”

“I—her name is Flavia, I only met her like an hour ago—Camilla, what are you _doing_ here?”

“I’m here to make it clear that you’re not on the market,” she growls, nuzzling into your neck and biting experimentally at the flesh she finds above your neckline. “She wanted you, and she needed to know that she couldn’t have you.”

Righteous anger bubbles up through your chest and out of your throat before you can halt it. “And why couldn’t she? I haven’t seen you in almost a decade, Camilla—you dropped out of my life without so much as a goodbye, you forgot about me, left me behind for something better, and now you think you have some kind of a _hold_ over me? Some kind of _right_ to me?”

For half a second, she looks taken aback, but she recovers quickly. Her eyes keep that fire in it, that possessive edge that she’s held since you first caught her gaze. “I had no choice. To have kept you close would have put you in harms way—unacceptable. But I have never stopped watching you… _wanting_ you. You have not been alone these past few years, my eyes have been on you every second they could. Do you want to know why?”

You nod.

Her voice softens. “Because you’re mine.”

She takes in your speechlessness, takes in your fury as it dissipates, takes you by the hand and pulls you out of the club, out of the centre of town, and you follow her lead. She leads you to a large car, pushes you up against it once more—gently, this time—and kisses you. Her lips are soft, as are her breasts when they push against you. It’s all you’d imagined and more, and you can’t find it in yourself to answer that niggling question in your brain— _why is this happening? How can this be happening?—_ opting instead to moan and pull her in, closer, closer, _closer_.

By the time she pulls back, her perfect purple hair is mussed and ruffled, but her eyes are soft and loving. She motions you into her car, and you get in, and let her drive you wherever she wants.

* * *

“Mmh, come here, kitten, I won’t bite.”

You’re unsure that she’s telling the truth, but you stumble forward towards her open legs all the same. She’s ruched her form-fitting black dress up, above her hips, and you can see the outline of her pussy through the translucent material of her thong. The bed she’s sitting on is… luxurious, making you think that the bedding alone is probably worth more than everything in your place combined, and she’s looking at you with a hunger that makes you feel like you’re worth being here.

When you get close enough, her hands greedily grab at your ass, kneading at it and pulling you even closer at the same time.

“You’re so perfect… you’ve been so perfect for so long, and now you’re here, where you should be, in my arms. Gods, I love you so much—so glad you’re finally here, my angel.”

“Camilla—” you groan, not getting anywhere near enough contact from her, but not having the words to ask for it. She quiets you, softly, gently, and pulls you down to straddle one of her thighs.

“We’ll have time to talk later, my sweet, but for now—ride me.”

Her word is all it takes to get you to move, grinding your ever-wettening core against her thigh. The pressure through your underwear is perfectly stimulating on your clit, and your pace gets ever quicker as you get more and more desperate for something extra to get you to your high. Camilla breathes hotly on your ear, slides her hands under your dress and up until she’s fondling your tits, pulling the cups of your bra down until she can roll your stiffening nipples in her fingers.

“Gods, Camilla, please, _please_ —”

“Please what, darling?” she purrs, innocence and lust rolling through her words.

“Please—fuck me, let me fuck you, whatever, I don’t _care_ , just— _more_ , please, please, _please_.”

“Well, since my baby asked so nicely…” She picks you up and lays you with your back on the bed, before standing up and stripping quickly. She fiddles in a drawer for a second before returning, fake cock in hand. She moans a little as she pushes one end into herself, then crawls towards you, stopping to pull down your underwear agonisingly slowly and press teasing kitten licks on your heat. “Grab the lube from the table, there, darling.”

You do, and unceremoniously throw it at her. She chuckles, pours some over the pink shaft, then crawls further up over your body to take your mouth with a passionate, sweet kiss. Every inch of your mouth is lavished with attention until it feels as if you’re melting beneath her. Bucking your hips up seems to give her the idea that you’re impatient, so she breaks away from you to position herself.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” she says, voice husky. “But I’ve waited so long, I don’t think this will be gentle.”

“Don’t want gentle, Cam. Want you, now, please, _please_ , take me,” you beg.

“Oh, I could listen to you grovel like that for _hours_. Well, you asked so sweetly, and I suppose it’s rude to leave a lady waiting.”

With the tip lined up, it takes her less than a second to press the smooth, slim shaft in, and even as you’re crying out from the sudden intrusion, she’s setting a punishing pace. You can tell that the end inside of her is rubbing her just as well, the two of you trading off on soft gasps and moans. She pulls your thighs further apart, holds them close to her sides so that she can fuck you deeper.

Trails of sweat run down your thigh, and the steady slapping of her skin on yours takes on a lewd, messy sound. You feel yourself getting wetter, closer and closer, chasing a high that seems just out of reach. Even the sound of Camilla’s enjoyment only gets you frustrating close to the edge.

“Gods, you are heavenly,” she stutters out. Looking up, she is a rumpled goddess; halo of purple hair catching the low lamp light, dewy sweat gathering on her forehead as a nectar, breasts full, eyes soft with a love and sharp with a lust you have never seen before. One of her hands moves to your throat, thumb rubbing in question at your pulse point.

You nod, and with that permission, Camilla’s hand closes around your neck. She uses the added leverage to thrust harder and faster, and even with the decreased air supply you find yourself trying to cry out and gasp.

“Under my thumb… completely. Just where you should be, right where you belong.”

Her other hand lets go of your leg to move you your clit, and before you know it, you’re coming with a whimper, stimulated in so many ways—the dildo inside you, her hand on your throat, on your clit, every place that your skin meets feels like too much. You open your eyes, not realising you’d closed them, as Camilla brings herself to an end with her own hand. She’s staring at you through the whole thing.

It’s not until you’ve both taken some deep breaths and Camilla begins to pull the toy out of the two of you that you feel the bite she’s left on your shoulder. It stings like she’s drawn blood, but in your post-orgasm haze, that just makes it seem hotter.

Camilla climbs off of you, of off the bed, and disappears into what you assume is her bathroom. When she returns with a wet flannel, you assume she’s wanting to clean up some of the mess you’d made between your legs. Instead, she begins firmly but gently scrubbing at the skin of your forearm.

“Uh…?”

“Well, unless you’re planning on calling that… _friend_ of yours, you won’t need her number, surely.”

“Oh, well, no, I guess not?”

Camilla growls. “Will I have to prove to you again who you belong to?”

You can think of worse ways to spend the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I think Camilla's behaviour here is... not great, to say the least. The idea here was that the two of you had grown up quite close together, until her sister Corrin returns to her family and she begins to forget about you--or so you think. Camilla really just got embroiled in her family's politics and power plays, and had less time to spend with you. But with the resources afforded to her, she's kept an eye on you to make sure that you, who she thinks of as hers, never finds someone else to take her place.
> 
> The night in the fic is the night she feels her hand has been forced, and she's had to show her position.
> 
> Anyway, thoughts and criticisms are always welcome (especially since I'm still not super experienced in writing NSFW stuff...), both in the comments and at cuddlebros.tumblr.com!


End file.
